Author Archives: michelle.mack

About michelle.mack

Christian. Songwriter. Wife. Runner. Snowboarder. Mom. Musician. Black Belt. Novice domestic engineer. Living to love by God's grace.

Praying my heart out

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Photo: Takras on Flickr

I have many friends. In fact, I count myself blessed to have such a multitude of amazing people in my life. Today, however, there’s one friend I’m thinking about. I can’t get her off my mind. My heart has been aching for her for the last four days.

See, this friend of mine has asked for my help… she asked for a favor:

She asked me to pray.

I am humbled and honored that she would come to me. That she would ask me to lend her my faith in her time of need, I believe, speaks to the power of God in my life and in hers. I have prayed for her several times since I received that email.  The bible tells us in 1 Thessalonians 5:17 to “pray continually”. I believe the reason I can’t stop thinking about my friend and her circumstances is the Holy Spirit of God reminding me to pray for her.

My friend is pregnant. And scared. There are complications.

I hear people say all the time, “God never gives you more than you can handle.” That’s not true. I’m convinced that God will give you infinitely more than you can handle on your own in this life. I’m convinced that God will allow you to experience deep hurts or horrifying fears in order to draw your attention to Him. He will absolutely give you more than you can handle.

But He is more than able and willing to carry our burdens for us… to be our strength when we are weak. Jesus said, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” [2 Corinthians 12:19] The truth is, God will never give you more than you can handle WITH HIM.

Jesus tells us, in the book of John, chapter 15 and verse 5, “apart from me, you can do nothing.” But in Matthew 19, verse 26 we read, “with God all things are possible.” Oh how beautiful are those words… He is more than willing to carry you through your fears and your pains and take up all the weight of what is hurting you:

28 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” [Matthew 11:28-30]

Through all of life’s trials I think my favorite verses of the entire bible are these:

6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” [Phil 4:6-7]

I have known that peace.

Tonight, my prayer for my friend is that she would come to know that peace as well. I wanted to share this prayer, so that those of you reading it might also join me in faith as she is going for some testing tomorrow:

Heavenly Father, Creator God… tonight I bring you my friend. You know her, Lord. You know everything about her. You created Her just as she is for just this moment. Father, as your Word says, you created her inmost being. You knit her together in her mother’s womb… just as you have this tiny baby in her own. Father, God, I trust in your sovereignty. I trust that you ARE love (1 John 4:8). I trust that you have created my friend and her baby for a specific purpose. I pray, Lord, that you would show her your amazing grace through this trial. I pray, Lord, that you would shower her with your mercy right now. I pray, Lord, that you would make your nearness known to her… that you would reveal yourself to her in a way she has never known. I pray, Father, that you would take her mustard seed of faith and let her see the power of that faith move even this mountain that lies before her. Overwhelm her with your peace and surround her with your joy, Lord, as only you can. Heavenly Father, I pray for your favor on her baby. Father, you are merciful [Luke 6:36]. I pray for your mercy in this pregnancy… that this baby, whom she already loves with an unending love, would be healthy and thriving. I pray that you would bless my friend with the best doctors, nurses and technicians and that your hand would guide every move, every decision that would be made for this new little life. I pray also for her husband and the strength and solidarity in her marriage. I pray for her family also, that they would be united with a holy love and compassion for one another and for this baby. Lord, I pray for a powerful movement of your Holy Spirit to work a miracle that will see you glorified in it. Father, as I pray right now, please heal the broken places. Mend the weaknesses and let your power be known. In Jesus’ name I pray, Amen.

My heart on my sleeve

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Today is not a good day. I mean, it’s a good day… I’m alive; my family is healthy; we have a lovely home and enough to eat. So I’m grateful. I’m grateful for this life. I’m grateful for everything God has brought me through and I’m grateful for the future that lies ahead of me.

But I’m scared.

And I’m stressed out.

I’m scared that I’m failing at being a mom. I’m scared that my children are going to grow up to be less than they could be. I’m scared that I’m going to wreck them. I’m scared because I don’t know what they need. I’m scared of being inconsistent with them. I’m scared that they’re going to be spoiled. I’m scared the wounding they’ve experienced is going to scar them forever.

I’m scared because I can’t create their future.

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:6-7 ESV)

I have held on to this verse for a long time. I have it engraved on a ring I wear. I reach for this verse whenever I feel stressed. I have felt a ton of God’s peace through a lot of significant stuff, but I consistently lose my cool when it comes to parenting. Maybe it’s an indication that I haven’t given my kids over to the will of God. I wrote this just a few short months ago:

What I need to do is remember that my kids are only on loan to me. I have been charged with loving them, teaching them and protecting them but I MUST remember that they belong to God; and parenting is God’s work. He is the one who bears the ultimate responsibility for how they turn out. He is the one who created them with a plan and purpose. He is the one that will work in their hearts as we scatter seeds of faith in their lives and aim, by the grace of God, to pour out the fruits of the spirit in our homes – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. [From With the grace of a kindergarten teacher - published December 16, 2011]

Maybe I still can’t wrap my head around it.

Sometimes my stress is from having a toddler. Mine is an ornery one too. He has been since the day he was born. Mini-man, on the other hand, was never that way. He was the sweetest toddler imaginable. He was agreeable, adaptable, kind, empathetic, loving… here’s a little video from when he was 3 1/2 years old. Not too many kids would shrug that off and laugh.

But mine did.

But now, at 6, he seems so uncertain. I know he’s smart. I know he’s perceptive. But he completely lacks self-discipline in every way and has no regard for authority at all. Some days I’m afraid he’s going to become a sociopath and other days I just think he’s the best thing since sliced bread. Most days, though, are a blend of the two. Most days include asking him to do the same things over and over. Most days include telling him NOT to do the same things over and over. Most days include yelling and time outs and apologies without change. Most days I feel like I’m banging my head up against a wall.

Today is one of those days.

I’ve tried time-outs. I’ve tried the naughty chair. I’ve tried spanking. I’ve tried yelling. I’ve tried taking away toys and TV and movies and Wii and other privileges. I’ve tried a combination of all of the above. I’ve tried more one-on-one time. I’ve tried more sleep. I’ve tried more encouragement and more grace. I’ve tried everything I know how to try and still it seems like my kid is the one who is always in trouble.

Sometimes I find myself saying, “What happened to him?!” But I know what happened… his daddy died. His life was flipped upside down. His heart was broken. His little soul was wounded… and there’s nothing I can do to change what happened.

Every decision I’ve made since Dave died I’ve made with my kids’ best interests in mind. It was Dave that was adamant that his boys needed a strong Christian father and it was Dave that wanted his kids to grow up in a nice house in a nice community. I have done all I can to give our kids the future he wanted them to have… the future we wanted for them together. And I will continue to do everything in my power to raise them the way I believe he would have wanted.

But I can’t bring him back for them.

So now I don’t know if this fundamental shift in Mini-man’s personality is forever. I don’t know if it’s because he lost his dad or if it is just a normal developmental stage. I don’t know if it’s because I re-married and moved him to a new community. I don’t know if it’s because I am too lenient or too strict. I don’t know if it’s because I discipline him too much or because I don’t celebrate enough his successes. I don’t know if he knows how much I love him. I don’t know if he feels secure. I don’t know how to help him find his authentic self. I’m not sure he will ever be back quite the way he was. I’m not sure he ever should be… after all, he’s growing and changing and learning every day. Each new day is shaping his future to something new but to what? It feels like my heart is torn out. I can’t make it better.

I can’t fix him.

Maybe tomorrow will be better. Maybe tomorrow he’ll return to kindergarten and be able to listen to his teacher. Maybe tomorrow he’ll remember to clean up his breakfast dishes after himself. Maybe tomorrow I won’t have to ask him 6 times to put his shoes on. Maybe tomorrow he will do as the playground supervisor tells him to do without talking back. Maybe tomorrow he will earn back one of the toys I took away today. Maybe tomorrow I will be a better mom than I am today.

Maybe I’m just crazy. Maybe this is normal.

Maybe it will all be okay.

A Renaissance… of sorts

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ouch

Ouch! ^^ Who IS that girl?!

I was once a fat kid. Actually, I was a fairly fat young adult too. If you’re a regular reader you know I have written about my weight struggles before. This is nothing new.

On that post ^ I showed some photos from my original goal weight… the weight I was when I married Dave. What I didn’t show you was the before pic. So here it is.

Crazy huh? That was me at about 26 years of age in 2001 or early 2002.

So every day I live my life knowing that I once made it from that “before” pic to my goal weight – some 60 lbs less than that. I know how to do this.

It’s not easy, but I’m doing it again.

Now I know what you’re thinking… I know that in that other post I wrote I said I was ready to take the weight off again… and I know that was early in 2009. I wasn’t ready. I wanted to be ready. But the amount of commitment required to make such a drastic life change is something that either comes or it doesn’t. No amount of wanting it will make it so. You have to not only want it, but be ready and willing to do what’s needed to make it happen. As it turned out, it wasn’t long after I wrote that post that I found out we were expecting Mini-Boy; the timing just wasn’t right for me.

In January of this year, however, I decided it was time to get things going again. No, it wasn’t a New Year’s resolution, but just an acceptance that I’m not getting any younger and if I’m going to do this, I should do it soon.

I’ll be 37 this summer.

Thirty seven is really, REALLY close to 40. I want to roll into my 40s in the best shape of my life. I want to be in better shape than I was after losing 60 lbs and running my first Half Marathon in 2003. I don’t want to age gracefully. I want to grow stronger. I want my body to function as it was designed to. I want it to keep working for a really long time. I want to teach my kids to enjoy sports and revel in their own strength. I want to see my muscles. I want the Mack girls to learn that it’s better to be strong than to be skinny; it’s better to be confident in who you are than to aim for some unattainable perfection.

I still have goals. Lofty ones too.

So this year I’m back to running and I’m back to Weight Watchers Online. I’ve signed up for the SeaWheeze Lululemon Half Marathon in August and I’m planning to run the Seek The Peak Relay (Solo) at Grouse Mountain in June. I think I’m also going to take a stab at a new 10km PR at the Vancouver Sun Run in a couple of weeks. Even Big Mack is on board with me and will run his first 5km race in Summerland in June!

Because I’m a little older and a little wiser than I was when I was running pre-kids, I’ve decided to do a Half Marathon training program that only includes 3 runs/week and two days of cross training. I’ve been taking a High Intensity Interval Training type class from Jorg Mardian of Mardian in Motion since December. I can’t believe the awesome results I’m seeing from that class. I also think it’s having an amazing impact on my running too.

In fact, I’m loving the interval training so much, Big Mack and I decided to buy a video series to do at home when we can’t get to Jorg’s class. It’s called Insanity by Beachbody. We’ve just just about completed a home renovation project to finish our basement to add a 6th bedroom (so all the kids have their own rooms) and a home gym. I can’t wait to get it all set up and be able to really stay consistent with my training.

So how am I doing so far? In the last 10 weeks I have:

  • Lost 14 lbs in total
  • Lost 3 1/2″ off my waist
  • Lost 2″ off my hips
  • Lost 3″ off my bust
  • Lost 2 dress sizes
  • Run out of holes on my belt
  • Run my first sub-1hr 10km since 2003

Last week I ran 27km, took 3 Interval Training Classes and went snowboarding once.

Now, I still have about 20 lbs to lose but I’m only about 7 lbs over where I was when I ran my first half marathon in 2003. This year, I’m hoping to be leaner by the time the race rolls around and I’m hoping to beat my time of 2:08:02. I know I’m almost 10 years older, but I think I can still do it.

Who knows? Maybe I’m crazy…

On the diet front, Big Mack and I are making a concerted effort to eat a clean diet. I first got excited about this concept when I read Jillian Michaels’ book Master Your Metabolism and wrote a little about my clean eating efforts here. I think this is the key. As much as I love the flexibility with Weight Watchers to be able to eat a doughnut every now and again, I know the refined foods, the GMOs, the corn products, the additives and garbage that our bodies consider foreign are not helping my efforts. I think giving up this stuff and eating clean will never come to a place of perfection, but a simple awareness is a huge start.

I really feel like this is a re-birth for me. I’m so excited about my upcoming races and the training in the months ahead. I also have my sights set on running the Tough Mudder… maybe in 2013. Now THAT would be insanity.

Maybe I am crazy, but crazy suits me just fine! I say set lofty goals. I say dream big and find a way to go after what you want to achieve. Prove it to yourself that you can do it! You’ll never know what’s possible until you push beyond what’s comfortable. I feel very blessed to have had some of the opportunities I have in this life – military training, skydiving, black belt testing etc. – because they have given me the confidence to know I can survive a whole lot of stuff and come out stronger on the other side.

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me – Phil 4:13 NKJV

The Jellybean Game

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Photo: dwstucke on Flickr

So today I’m throwing Miniman’s 6th birthday party. I am terrified of kids running rampant throughout my house, so my best line of defense is to structure the party with lots of games that will harness their energy in one direction. As I was preparing for today I remembered a game we played at a birthday party when I was a kid… The Jellybean Game.

What you need:

  • A shallow, round pan – like a 9″ round baking pan or something similar
  • 4 cups of jellybeans or so; more if you’d like depending on the # of participants
  • A small cup for each participant
  • A small spoon
  • A pair of dice

Fill the baking tray with jellybeans to about 1″ deep and put the spoon on top. Have all the kids sit in a circle around the tray – have them back up so there is at least 2-3 feet between little knees and the jellybean tray – more is better. Start with the guest of honor. Have them roll the dice. If they get doubles they get to go fish out jellybeans. If they don’t get doubles, the dice pass to the person on their right so that the dice move counter-clockwise around the circle, each person trying to roll doubles to get in the center of the circle to where the jellybeans are.

Once someone successfully rolls doubles, they go kneel beside the tray of jellybeans. With one hand behind their back and the spoon in their other hand, they get to lift out jellybeans one by one – using ONLY the HANDLE end of the spoon (without flicking, scooping or otherwise cheating) – and depositing them into some kind of cup (one per child).

While they are lifting jellybeans out of the shallow tray with the handle of a spoon, the dice are continuing to be rolled by the remaining participants in a counter-clockwise manner around the circle. The person in the middle continues with the jellybeans until someone else rolls doubles. They may get a long turn or they may get a short turn. It’s up to the dice! Keep playing until the tray of jellybeans is empty.

The winner is the person with the most jellybeans once the tray is empty. The winner gets a prize and everyone who got to fish out jellybeans gets to keep what they gathered.

So there it is: The Jellybean Game.

If you have a favorite kids’ party game, describe it in the comments! Let’s see if we can put together a bunch of the best kids’ birthday party games in one place.

Confessions of a heel-striker

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Photo: al.herrmann on Flickr

Today I tweeted “Run or nap?” I was not disappointed with the advice given me.

So I ran.

I’ve written before about my love of running, but since moving to Oliver I’ve been sort of on-again-off-again with the training. I ran a bit early on when I moved here last April, but then it got hot and I stopped… and then I ran a little more in the fall and then I got sick, and then I went to Mexico (I know, excuses excuses) and then it got cold.

I’m not used to cold.

So then February rolled around and a friend of mine encouraged me to set a goal – a mighty lofty one at that – to run the SeaWheeze Lululemon Half Marathon on August 11th. And I figured, why not? On any given day I can pull off about 10km… what’s another 11?! Piece of cake! Uh… well, something like that.

Okay I’m finding it a little daunting and I’m doubting my ability to do this just a touch, but I like a good challenge and I’ve already paid the bucks to register.

So there.

In other running-related news, Big Mack gave me a pair of Vibram Five Finger Bikila shoes for Valentine’s day. I’ve been eyeing these up for some time so I’m super excited to take them out for a spin. The weather here hasn’t been great for the last couple days. My running routes have quite a bit of mud and gravel left over from the latest snowfall so I’m waiting for the right opportunity to break them in. In the meantime, though, I decided to get started on fixing my running stance to make running in minimalist shoes bearable.

I’m a heel striker.

There, I said it. If I keep running the way I have been in these Bikilas I’m going to hurt myself I’m sure… especially if I’m heading into distances that will prepare me for a half marathon. So today I decided to try out more of a mid-foot strike while running… just to see what it feels like. Wow. I may be a touch sore tomorrow.

I ran about 8 km and, while I slipped back into my natural form a few times, I did make a concerted effort to land each stride sort of flat, more on the ball than the heel. Here are my observations about the mid-foot strike versus the heel strike:

  • I had to shorten my stride because I couldn’t reach out as far to the front with each step
  • The shorter stride had me more upright and leaning forward less
  • The result of being more vertical was that there was more of an extension of the hip flexor with each stride
  • There was also more of a push backward with the back leg rather than down, which worked the top of the glutes more like a rear leg lift would
  • I could no longer rely on my hamstrings and my glutes to do the hard work
  • The work shifted to the quads and the calf muscles
  • There was less work in the contraction of the hip flexors since they didn’t have to bring the leg up as high since I was already more upright

All in all, I found the experience interesting. It took me almost an hour to do 8km – normally I’d do this in about 50 minutes these days but the shorter stride and focus on my form really caused me to lose speed. I’m not sure how I’m going to feel tomorrow… my quads were tight after this run and that is a rare occurrence for me. My calves don’t feel it yet but it’s only been 4 hours.

So for now I’m working on two goals: 1) being consistent with my running to bring my base mileage to an appropriate level for half marathon training, which will begin in May, and 2) changing up my stance to a mid-foot strike and logging some miles on my Bikilas.

I’m also looking for some interim races to try between now and August 11th, so if you have any good suggestions let me know! And oh yeah… do you like my shoes?!

With the grace of a kindergarten teacher

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Photo: Will Foster on Flickr

I have a confession to make: I have some anger issues.

When I was a kid, my parents were strict. They were loving, but strict. I thought so anyway. The rules and moral code I had to adhere to placed the bar just above my head and I was always striving to reach it. I was a good kid. I was never spanked (ever), but I was disciplined with a wave of guilt that only a father can bestow upon his daughter. My dad used to say, “I’m disappointed in you.” Well… he may as well have beaten me. That was usually plenty to make me change my tune. When it wasn’t, though, he yelled.

He yelled loudly.

He yelled because he loved me and hated that I was making poor decisions. He yelled because he couldn’t make me choose to behave better. He yelled because he felt powerless to fashion me in to the awesome person he knew I could be, all the while resting the idea of how well I turn out on his own shoulders. In truth I’m not sure if that’s how he felt, but it sure is how I feel about my own kids.

I yell too.

The other day I was helping out in Mini-Man’s kindergarten classroom with their lunch program (could you imagine trying to feed eighteen 5-year-olds without any assistance?!) and I saw the kids interacting with their teacher before and during lunch. I watched as they tried to stay still on the carpet, as they budged in line while waiting to wash their hands, as they poked one another and giggled. All the while their teacher was correcting them gently and moving on to the next task. Her voice never wavered.

She’s soft and firm.

See, she loves her job and is awesome at what she does; I think you have to be in order to actually survive being a kindergarten teacher. She cares for each child and wants them all to succeed, but because they’re not her kids she doesn’t need to feel any burden for how they’ll turn out as adults. I’m sure she hopes that in some way she’ll make a lasting impact on the life of each child she teaches, but I’m sure she doesn’t lose sleep over it.

She doesn’t yell.

Honestly I’d be angry if she yelled at my kid. Why? Because it’s inappropriate and ineffective. I love my kids and I love being a mom; and I care for each of my children and step-children and want to see them succeed. But I have heaped on my own shoulders the complete and total responsibility for how my children turn out as adults through my own condemnation of other parents whose children have faltered. My own judgemental attitude has set the bar way higher than any parent can hope to achieve.

What I need to do is remember that my kids are only on loan to me. I have been charged with loving them, teaching them and protecting them but I MUST remember that they belong to God; and parenting is God’s work. He is the one who bears the ultimate responsibility for how they turn out. He is the one who created them with a plan and purpose. He is the one that will work in their hearts as we scatter seeds of faith in their lives and aim, by the grace of God, to pour out the fruits of the spirit in our homes – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.

Notice yelling isn’t on the list.

What I need to do is correct them gently each time they fall short of my own expectations. I need to lovingly show them the right way to behave and then move on to the next task. I need to hand my kids over to God at the end of the day understanding rightly that the ultimate responsibility lies with Him.

I need to parent with the grace of a kindergarten teacher and trust God for the rest.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” [Matthew 11:28-30 NIV].

Home is where the heart is

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Photo: Meredith Farmer on Flickr

I remember planning my move to this beautiful place and my new future with Big Mack and I was so excited. I was excited to move back to the Okanagan; I was excited to be a part of a whole family again; I was excited to live in a house with a yard; I was excited to give my sons a new dad; I was excited to quit my job and become a stay-at-home wife and mom; I was excited to spend time writing music. There’s only one thing I wasn’t excited about.

I hated the idea of leaving my church.

My church was my home. It’s where I wanted to be. It was filled with people who cared about me, people who prayed for me and listened to me when I needed to talk. It was people who held me accountable and people who stretched me and taught me to reach out for God’s truth… to get to know Him better. It was where I belonged. It was my home.

I’d visited Big Mack’s church a few times during my visits with him before we were married – maybe 3 or 4 at most. I remember comparing it to Valley Church – my home church since I became a Christian in 2005 – and feeling completely underwhelmed. I remember thinking the music was lacking and the congregation was stifled and I remember disliking the preaching I did hear simply because it wasn’t Pastor Owen. There was some social awkwardness too… or maybe it was just me. I was, after all, attending where Big Mack used to go with his now ex-wife and, well… it just wasn’t MY church.

Ugh.

I remember mulling it over. I remember asking Big Mack if he would consider moving to something a little more vibrant. I remember wanting something different… I remember saying I couldn’t feel the Holy Spirit there. I remember praying about it and I remember God telling me to stop looking at church with an expectation to be served but, rather, to look at it as an opportunity to serve others and trust in Him.

This is right where he wanted me.

I am so grateful to the Oliver Alliance Church community for embracing me wholeheartedly, for welcoming me into their lives and into their hearts, for including me in their social engagements and for caring for me and my boys through the children’s ministry. I am thankful I have been given the opportunity to serve with the worship arts ministry and that I have been encouraged and prayed with and loved on and lifted up.

I am so completely ashamed at the terrible attitude I once held about this great group of people. As I have come to know many of them – even just a little bit – I can tell their hearts are genuine, their faith strong and true. I can tell they love my Jesus as I do.

I still have close relationships with Valley Church through songwriting; my co-writers are there and I have been meeting with them about once a month since I moved here. And I always take in a service there when I’m in the city on a Sunday… I am even still asked to sing with the worship ministry there on occasion. What’s beautiful, though, is I now have a new church family and all those things I thought about Oliver Alliance before were completely wrong.

So wrong.

It’s funny how our perceptions change. I think God changes them. Where once my poor outlook clouded my vision to where I couldn’t see the Spirit moving in that place I am now moved to tears in worship and humbled by the inspired preaching. So often Pastor Jeremy manages to preach on a topic or scripture passage I was just reading or contemplating the day before, confirming to me that God is very much still at work.

As Christians, our church becomes our family. They are an extension of us – the body of Jesus. We cannot function well without those vital relationships. We must allow ourselves to fall under the leadership and guidance of a pastor and a church body for our own well-being and growth.

I’m so grateful that God put me right where I am. My heart is here.

Today is the day

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Well it seems as good a day to share this as any…

I noticed a Facebook update from a dear friend today asking her friends to refrain from posting anything about abortion and/or gay marriage. Obviously any discussion on either of these topics becomes highly offensive to both sides.

But I want to share something about abortion; I want to share the reason why I side with the pro-life camp.

The topic of abortion hits much closer to home for me than just being an activist or spreading this stuff because I’m your friendly neighborhood Jesus freak. I don’t go and hold placards outside Planned Parenthood or any other abortion clinics and I don’t chastise women who have had abortions. I won’t hate on anyone, call you a murderer or turn my back on you. I have had some dear friends confide in me their own decisions AND the horrible turmoil they went through before, during and after their wishes were carried out. When I say I side with the pro-life camp it’s just my position on the topic. My actions consist of no more than simply not aborting a baby and asking you to consider why abortion may not be morally right under normal (or any) circumstances.

I shared a link a couple of weeks ago on my own Facebook to a movie called 180. The 180 Movie is stirring up a considerable amount of controversy for the way in which its creator – Ray Comfort – compares the abortion industry to the holocaust. The movie is quickly approaching a million views, which is quite the feat for a 33-minute movie. What’s most shocking to me about the movie itself is the revelation of the numbers that I’ve never considered before: Abortion in America has taken the lives of 60 million people. Furthermore, and unrelated to the 180 Movie, in China, the one-child policy has caused the loss of roughly 400 million more lives.

But nevermind the numbers. I’m passionate about the topic of abortion because of my own story. I was adopted. Why?

My birth mother was 13 years old.

I thank God every day that she didn’t get an abortion… that she couldn’t get an abortion in 1975. I’m grateful that by the time the pregnancy was discovered she was already 5 months or so along and no doctor would go through with it. If I were conceived today I never would have made it to this world.

I’m grateful for my own life.

I’m grateful that my life was spared. I’m grateful that my parents found two babies to adopt so that I grew up in a family where I knew I belonged and was wanted and could be cared for. I’m grateful my birth mom had parents who continued to love her while she dealt with the consequences of having a baby so young. My parents always told me I was adopted and why but I’m grateful that I have come to learn the whole story… or most of it anyway.

I’m grateful there’s a story to be told.

I’m sorry if my being passionate about this topic offends you. I’m sorry if my asking you to reconsider your own stance on abortion is offensive also. But I can’t not share my heart.

And I hope my friends will forgive me and see that I mean no harm.

Here’s The 180 Movie if you’re curious… 180 Movie

Parenting is God’s work

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Photo: Britannia Willes

Children are a gift from God.

They’re a gift to us; they’re a gift to this world. They’re His children, His creation… The kingdom of heaven belongs to them (Matt 19:14). He loves them infinitely more than we ever could. He has a perfect plan for their lives. Not one of them is an accident. Not one of them was unplanned. Not one of them was unwanted. Not one of them arrived at the wrong time or the wrong place or to the wrong parents.

Not one.

How we treat our children is a reflection of how we treat Jesus. If we don’t have time for our children we don’t have time for Jesus. If we yell at our children we yell at Jesus. If we smack our children we smack Jesus. Every time we sin against our children we are spitting on Jesus and mocking him on the cross over and over again.

Sometimes I feel absolutely overwhelmingly frightened at the sheer magnitude of the responsibility. Sometimes I feel like my heart is going to break when I realize that they need more than I will ever have in me to give.

Every parent is given a monumental task… a mission… a ministry. To them. To our kids. To train them up in the way they should go (Prov 22:6). To not provoke them to anger (Eph 6:4). To love them. To teach them in humility and with patience. To speak truth into their lives and to model the fruits of the Spirit of God: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control (Gal 5:22-23)… It’s a high calling and a daunting one.

But God is able.

Remember… whatever He has called us to do He will do it. He is the one who fed the crowd of five thousand with just two fishes and five loaves of bread (John 6:1-15) and so we are able to raise up our children even without the best of examples (or even any example at all!) … just God’s promises and our faith.

And yes… I’m mostly just writing this post to myself.

$10,000 for Horn of Africa Famine Relief

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I have been contemplating how I can help with the famine relief efforts in Somalia and the Horn of Africa and I want to do something big.

It seems we – I? – have been apathetic to the famines in Africa for at least as long as I’ve been alive. After all, we hear about the starving children in Africa at every meal when we leave some food on our plates. We heard about the children in Ethiopia when I was a kid and now 11.6 million people are affected by this latest drought in the area spanning Kenya, Somalia and Ethiopia. I don’t even think we can really grasp how many people that is! Some of the articles I’ve been reading lately have left me in tears and wondering how on earth I could ever do anything that will actually help anyone.

What if it were my own kids?! A friend of mine recently linked to a blog post on A Fresh Chapter called What If We Were the Ones Broke Down and Torn? and it hit me like a freight train: How would I look in the faces of my children and tell them, “I’m sorry kids; there is no food. Now go find something else to do to keep your mind off your hunger.” Big Mack and I have 5 little mouths to feed. I would be gutted if I ever had to live out that reality with them. ABSOLUTELY GUTTED!

Then I saw a friend post on her Facebook page that she’d donated a pay cheque to Unicef. And then another friend posted a link to the Canadian Red Cross Horn of Africa relief fund via Miss 604 and I’m still trying to figure out what I can do that might make a real impact. I could give $20, $50, even $100 and call it day… feel like I’d done something, wonder if it made even a dent and then move on, but I really want to do something bigger than that.

So I was thinking…

I have some money tied up in a condo in North Vancouver, and I could take some of that money and donate it… IF I could sell the condo, that is. The current condo market is tough though; there are a lot of available units to choose from. So I want to sweeten the pot so that, together with someone else out there who is looking for just the right home in North Vancouver, I can contribute to something that might make a difference.

So here’s what I’m offering: Buy my North Vancouver condo for the current listing price of $314,900 (I have reduced the price by $10k also) and I will donate $10,000 to the Canadian Red Cross Horn of Africa relief efforts in your name. That means you will not only purchase a lovely updated 2 bedroom, 1 bathroom condo in the trendy Lower Lonsdale area of North Vancouver, but you will receive a $10,000 charitable tax credit for 2011.

PLUS! If we can make this happen by September 16th, the Government of Canada has agreed to match the donation so that the Canadian Red Cross will actually receive $20,000!

Here are the particulars on the condo:

  • Second floor corner unit is north-west facing – cool in summer and private with a large hedge surrounding the property. Morning sunlight in the dining room and 2nd bedroom.
  • Bedrooms separated for privacy; largest floor plan in the building
  • Kitchen completely updated in late 2006 with custom maple kitchen cabinets, stainless steel appliances including double oven and overhead microwave, stone countertops, Italian ceramic tile flooring
  • Bathroom completely updated in late 2006 with soaker tub with custom enclosure and glass door, heat limiter on bath/shower, new everything
  • Other updates included lighting fixtures in kitchen, dining room and sconces in living room
  • Strata fees <$300/mo. includes heat, hot water, insurance, landscaping etc.
  • Unit includes one parking stall in the secure underground parking, one storage locker and use of the secure bike lock-up
  • Two blocks to Lonsdale Avenue; 6 blocks to Lonsdale Quay & Sea Bus with a Translink bus stop right outside the door

See full MLS listing here.

To arrange for a viewing, please contact my realtor, Ruth Hanson at 604-880-5936.

I want to sell my condo. But I REALLY want to donate this money. I want to do something significant. I have been the recipient of love and grace from so many friends and family who upheld me when I needed it, and now I want to do something that will really make a mark. I know no one will notice this money in reality, but maybe… just maybe this will make some kind of difference.

I can hope.